Dear Arakawa
by SammyQuill
Summary: Frustrated with the lack of Royai, FMA characters decide to take matters into their own hands and write to the mangaka. Written in letter format except for the epilogue and prologue.


**Author's Rant:** Okay, so this idea is the result off too much chocolate too late at night after an extremely taxing day at work, I apologize in advance if this offends anyone (especially Arakawa-chan) and assure you that I don't mean to poke fun at these wonderful characters… well, not outside the realm of the literary device known as humor. If I really did not like this story, I wouldn't be writing fan fictions about it.

So… at the end of the manga, everyone had only one question on their mind. Why was Royai never confirmed? This might have come out in the form of an "Aww, couldn't you have stuck a wedding shot of Roy and Riza on there too?" a "But what about Mustang and Hawkeye, are they like together and stuff?", "Does Black Hayate having puppies mean Taisa and Chuii got married?" or in my case "WHY, ARAKAWA WHY?". But suffice to say it was on everyone's mind.

Now, some of you wonderful people out there are perfectly happy with that epilogue because you say there is already an overwhelming amount of canon evidence that these two are together. I say "there is no such thing as too much Royai!". And this is basically what these characters will be saying too, albeit a lot more eloquently than myself.

So finally, this story will be written all in letter format (save the prologue and the epilogue) with characters from FMA writing to Hiromu Arakawa asking/suggesting/hinting/cussing as to why there wasn't/should be more Royai in the series and how it would be beneficial for everyone all around if there was.

And no, FMA does not belong to me. Not even a little bit.

_**Z-z**_

**Prologue**

It is another dull day in Central. The sun shines down steadily over the military headquarters, its rays shimmering through the windows of the offices and lighting up the desks, chairs, filing cabinets and even the people that work there. It is perfect weather for being outdoors, taking a walk, playing with one's dog or having a picnic.

Unfortunately, Mustang's unit isn't allowed such luxuries just because the weather permits. They still have to work in the uncomfortably warm office, filing every piece of paper to ever exist in this damned country (or so Havoc swears) under the careful scrutiny of the hawk's eye which never fails to notice (and quickly reprimand) anyone slacking off, the Colonel included.

Jean Havoc really dislikes days like these; in fact, he would even go as far as to say he hates them. And not just him, ask anyone who works in this damn office and they would tell you the same (though maybe in less colorful language). The office feels stifling, the woolen material of their uniform itches, the scratching of pen's is annoying as all hell and worst of all of these things is-

"Lieutenant, where are the profiles of the newly promoted cadets?" Colonel Mustang's voice rings out, stopping Breda in the act of biting down on a donut.

"On your desk, Sir, where I left them this morning," Hawkeye raises her blonde head just long enough to roll her eyes in the general direction of her commanding officer before turning back to her work. The sound of literal, actual paper pushing if heard for the next minute before Mustang's voice breaks the silence a second time.

"I can't find them, Hawkeye, are you sure you kept them here?"

Getting up from her own desk with a sigh, the long suffering First Lieutenant makes her way to Mustang, methodically going through all the paperwork he has managed to mess up in his search for the one particular file. Everyone knows she will have to sort through them all over again.

"And what is this, Sir?"

"Ah… so it _is_ here," the Colonel admits sheepishly.

"Unless inanimate objects have mastered the ability to walk off your desk," she glares, not at all impressed.

"Here, hand it over, I'll look them over before lunch," Mustang tried to appease his aide and reaches for the file. No one fails to notice their fingers brushing ever so slightly in the act of handling the document. Fuery averts his gaze, looking uncomfortably at the headset he has been tinkering with.

Breda lets out a groan and turns back to his paperwork and Havoc does the same, hoping that this will be it for today. Sadly, his hopes are dashed two minutes later when Mustang calls for Hawkeye again.

"Really sir, you don't need me to actually read that out to you, do you?"

"But Hawkeye, these cadets have really bad handwriting," the flame alchemist whines, making the sniper leave her desk once again. Their eyes meet as he passes her the file once again and everyone sees the small content smile on his face as Hawkeye starts reading the file out loud. Even Falman can tell the Colonel is enjoying her voice rather than listening to what she's saying.

Havoc grits his teeth, trying to concentrate on his paperwork as he tries to ignore his smug bastard of a Colonel. It is on days like these he needs a cigarette, even more so than usual.

Finally, after twenty minutes, silence envelopes the office once more and Falman, Fuery, Breda and Havoc try hard to contain their sighs of relief or turn them into polite yawns and coughs. Maybe this is it; they could all just work in peace now?

The relative calm stays for an hour this time, just long enough to lull Havoc into a false sense of security and then it happens again.

"Hawkeye-"

"Goddammit!"

For a moment, Havoc is sure he is the one to have uttered his frustration out loud. Indeed, it had been on the tip of his tongue, and Beda's too from the look of things.

The redhead slams his fist down on the table, squishing a half eaten donut into pulp. Realizing his mistake, the portly man looks embarrassedly at Hawkeye, stammering apologies and how he as going to go get a cloth to mop that up right away. Havoc watches his colleague beat a hasty retreat scornfully.

_Coward,_ he thinks reaching for a fresh piece of paper. Didn't Breda know running away wouldn't solve anything?

But something had to be done. It was getting to be too much now and it was affecting not just their work performance but their sanity too. All the "tension" in the air _has_ to unhealthy, and if his two superior officers chose to live with it, fine but he, Jean Havoc, would not stand for it any more.

It was time to pull out all the stops and appeal to the big guns, for nothing short of the highest authority could save them now.

"What's up with him," Mustang asks, puzzled as his aide turns to him again, inquiring what he wants _now_.

_**Z-z**_

**End Note:** Next up, the letter of complaint from Jean Havoc, stay tuned!

Also, I am very sorry if anyone has done this before, I didn't come across any such fictions in my extensive Royai reading but if there is someone who has used this idea before, I apologize and I am not plagiarizing.

And finally, please leave me a review to let me know if you liked it and whom you would like to see writing to Arakawa regarding the matter of Roy/Riza.


End file.
